


Halfway to Morning

by shadowen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Insecurity, Intersex Character, M/M, Misunderstandings, intersex Clint, transvengers assemble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/pseuds/shadowen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This may not be inevitable, but it's been a long time coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halfway to Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to hoosierbitch, my platonic life partner and very patient beta, who I love and adore.

Some things are inevitable.

Caution and preparation will only go so far, and Clint’s learned the hard way that, when skill inevitably fails, the best thing to do is hold on tight and go with his gut. This feels like one of those moments, feels inevitable.

He has his knee pressed between Phil’s thighs, and Phil is grinding against him like hard enough to bruise. They’d barely gotten inside before Clint pinned him against the door, and the only progress they’ve made has been to discard their shirts onto the floor. Clint is fumbling desperately with Phil’s belt, even as Phil is kissing him breathless and making every effort to dry hump them both to completion.

This may not be inevitable, but it’s been a long time coming.

Phil pulls back enough to pant against Clint’s mouth, “God, this is...”

“I know.” Clint feels like he’s been turned inside out, raw and aching. Then Phil rolls his hips, digging his fingernails into Clint’s spine, and every cell in Clint’s body sparks. “Want you so bad. You. You’re just....”

“You, too,” Phil groans. “Perfect. Want you. Want to...”

“Yeah. Yes. Fuck yes.” He finally gets Phil’s belt undone and nearly rips off the metal fasteners trying to open his fly. Phil reaches for the button on Clint’s jeans, and Clint bats his hand away, too focused on getting at Phil’s cock to deal with anything else.

“Please. I w-” Phil mumbles, and Clint cuts him off with a hard kiss.

The whole world is spinning, dizzy and beautiful, and Clint refuses to let anything ruin it. Phil’s fingers slip under Clint’s waistband, and Clint pushes them back with a growl. He can feel the erection through Phil’s perfectly fitted slacks, so close that Clint’s mouth is watering. It’s not just Phil’s cock, though; it’s every inch of him, every freckle and scar, every soft spot and pulse point, every knot of muscle and every fold of fat. Clint’s hungry for it all.

Suddenly, Phil surges forward, pushing them away from the door and walking them backward toward the bedroom, his hands on Clint’s hips and his mouth stealing away Clint’s gasp of surprise. Bed. Yes. Bed good. Clint thinks about Phil spread out on clean sheets, naked and gorgeous, and how that’s going to happen in just a few seconds, and he nearly trips trying to hurry them along.

Again, Phil reaches for Clint’s fly, and Clint grabs his wrists, forcing them behind Phil’s back so that they’re flush against each other, still kissing like air is a forgotten necessity until Phil breaks away, begging, “Please. Please, I want to touch you, want to see you.”

Clint keeps them moving, breathing hard and shaking his head. “No. No, don’t need to. I can get it.”

Phil groans, “Clint, please.”

“Leave it.” He nips at Phil’s ear, desperate to keep the taste of Phils skin in his mouth.

Shuffling slowly to a stop, despite Clint’s tugging, Phil asks. “Is something wrong?”

His handsome face is flushed bright, and Clint could eat him alive or stare at him forever or sit and talk until their voices give out. He wants to do absolutely everything with, to, and for Phil, except answer that question. “No. Why?”

“Well, this is going to work a lot better if we’re both naked,” Phil says, voice low and rough, making Clint shiver right down to his toes.

“I can still suck your cock with my pants on,” Clint points out, because that’s exactly what he plans to do.

“It’s just... I thought you wanted to...” For the first time since they got inside, Phil steps away, putting a breath of space between them, his wrists still gripped in Clint’s hands. “I’m a little confused.”

“What about this is confusing?” Clint asks. He tries to pull Phil back into his arms, but Phil doesn’t budge. “I thought I made it pretty clear that I want to strip you naked and make you come so hard you can’t see straight.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but you don’t seem interested in that part,” Phil replies in the particular tone of bland that means he’s nervous.

Clint just hopes that his face is red enough from being turned on that it hides the flush of shame crawling up his neck. “I can take care of myself. You don’t have to do anything.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I do want to,” Phil says, and Clint knows that he means it. “If you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t, but I’d like to know why.” Gently, he asks, “Is it... Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”

“What? No.” A lot of people have done a lot of shit to Clint, over the years, but rape is one bullet he managed to dodge. 

“Good,” Phil says, sounding relieved both for Clint’s sake and because he won’t have to hunt anyone down. And he _would_ hunt them down, Clint knows. One word, and Phil wouldn’t rest until whoever Clint named had been systematically removed from the face of the earth.

“What does it even matter if you get your hands in my pants?” Clint grumbles. “We both get off and go home happy. Everybody wins.”

“Oh. I thought... I guess I thought maybe you’d stay.” To anybody else, Phil would look only mildly disappointed, but Clint can see the wrinkle in his brow and the tilt of his head that show how crushed he is. Clint hates himself a little more than usual.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he lies. At least, it’s mostly a lie. He never planned to stay, but he knew the moment Phil kissed him that he wanted to. All Clint wants in the world is to crawl into bed with Phil, wrapped in afterglow and contentment, sleep late tomorrow morning, and have waffles for breakfast. If the universe was fair, he’d be on his way to doing that right now.

The universe isn’t fair, though, and some things are inevitable.

“Oh,” Phil says again, quietly. “Oh. My mistake.”

He pulls his hands from Clint’s grip and steps back slowly, like a part of him is making him move while all the rest is screaming for more. He’s keeping his face carefully composed in a way that makes Clint want to break something.

“I just don’t usually...” Clint tries to backpedal, tries to think of some resolution that won’t end with both of them in pieces, but it’s too late.

“No, of course not.” Phil shakes his head, smiling ruefully like it’s his fault, like he’s the one who’s being ridiculous. “I misjudged the situation. I’m sorry.”

Clint’s had punches in the gut that have hurt less than this. “You didn’t misjudge anything. You want me to stay? I’ll stay. Fine. Can we get back to the fun part now?”

“Not until you explain to me what’s going on here,” Phil snaps. “I thought that you... that we were...”

“What’s going on here is sex!” Clint shouts. “You remember sex? With the kissing and touching and orgasms?”

Phil’s expression never changes. “Sex.”

“Yes, sex. That’s all. No baggage. No complications,” Clint says. 

A shadow crosses Phil’s face, and it takes one heartbeat for Clint to realize that what he meant to say is not what Phil heard. Whatever issues Clint might have, Phil can’t possibly believe that Clint’s only in this to get laid.

“Right. Of course.” Phil’s whole body has gone tight and cold, and Clint has to put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out. “In that case, I think maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

Fuck.

“Aw, Phil, look...”

“No. I don’t...” Phil pauses, and that empty space is full of every moment they’ve had as partners and friends and almost-lovers. “When we agreed to this date, I assumed that we shared the same degree of investment. I was wrong in that assumption, and I accept that. I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward situation, but I need a little time to... reasses. Please.”

_Fuck._

Clint has been so invested in this that he feels like he’s leaving everything on the table, now that he’s screwed it up. “It’s not that... Look, I just don’t want you to touch me, okay?”

Phil flinches like he’s been burned. “Yes, I think we’ve established that.” He takes a deep breath, his bare chest rising and falling, and god Clint wants to lick him all over. Evenly, he says, “You should probably go.”

There’s probably something Clint can say to fix this, and he’d give a year off of his life to know what it is. Instead, he says nothing, just collects his shirt from the floor and tries not to consider what tomorrow’s going to be like with Phil thinking this is his fault when it’s all down to Clint being a freak.

“I guess I’ll see you later?” Clint says. He doesn’t mean to make it a question, but all the things he’s been certain of suddenly feel unsteady.

It takes a moment before Phil clears his throat and nods, not looking at Clint. “Yes. Of course. Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” Clint mutters. “Yeah, you, too.”

He’s halfway down the first flight of stairs before it hits him. Phil thinks this is _his_ fault. Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD, professional Good Person, is sitting alone is his apartment thinking that he screwed up and that Clint’s just not that into him.

“Fuck,” Clint mutters to himself, loud in the concrete stairwell. “ _Fuck._ ”

With a sigh, he turns around and heads back. He could just let it go and hope they can manage to find some kind of equilibrium again, but leaving things as they are means hurting Phil. As far as Clint’s concerned, that’s not an option.

Phil answers the door in his old army sweatshirt, still wearing his slacks and looking like he has to work at keeping himself composed. “Clint, please...”

“You think this is because I don’t like you,” Clint cuts him off. “Except that I do. I like you a lot. Not just in a friends way or a sexy way, but in a sexy best-friends way, with butterflies in my stomach and all that shit.”

The look Phil gives him isn’t relieved or confused; it’s just tired. “I’m sensing there’s a _but_ coming up.”

There is and there isn’t, and Clint hardly knows where to start. “Can I come in? Please?” he asks, and It’s the first time he’s ever had to. Phil’s always just ushered him inside without question.

This time, there’s hesitation, but Phil steps aside, his bare feet silent on the carpet. Clint darts in before Phil can change his mind.

“I know it’s lame to say it’s not you, it’s me, but that’s the truth,” he says, trying not to show that his heart’s pounding, wondering if he can get through this without throwing up. “I don’t let anybody touch me like that, not for years.”

Phil takes a moment to process that information, and Clint can see the shift from weary sadness to deep concern. “You said nobody’s ever hurt you or forced you?” Clint nods, and Phil presses carefully, “Do you just not enjoy it? Is sex uncomfortable for you, or...?”

What Clint doesn’t enjoy is the shock and disgust when his pants come off. He doesn’t enjoy getting kicked out of bed with a thanks-but-no-thanks. “I like sex,” he says honestly. “It doesn’t hurt, or anything, and it’s not that I don’t like being touched. It’s just that people don’t like touching me.”

Phil blinks. His eyes skim deliberately up and down Clint’s body, and he says dryly, “You’ll excuse me if I find that a little hard to believe.”

Clint snorts. “Yeah, well, everybody’s fine with it, up to a point. Then...” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, pacing across the small living area. This is it. This is the part where he has to say it. This is inevitable.

For lack of a better entry point, he starts at the beginning. “So you know how sometimes babies are born, and their, y’know, parts aren’t right? Like, it’s hard to tell if they’re a boy or a girl?” Slowly, Phil nods. “Most of the time, the doctors just sorta fix it, except that costs money, so sometimes they don’t.”

He doesn’t tell Phil that his mother had three miscarriages after he was born and said that God was punishing her for raising an abomination, or that his father used to grab Clint by the hair and hold a needle and thread in front of his face, threatening to fix the problem himself. He doesn’t tell Phil about the nun at the group home who made Clint pray twice as long as the other kids because God loved him half as much. 

Those wounds are mostly scars, by now, and he’s more concerned with healing the damage to this strange, uncertain thing between him and Phil.

“So it never got fixed,” he goes on. “Most of the time, I don’t even think about it. I mean, it’s just me, y’know? Not sure I’d know what to do with a regular cock and balls. Sex is weird, but people don’t usually ask questions when you’re going down on them, so I just get them off and stick a hand down my shorts, no explanations necessary.”

Phil is staring at him blankly, and Clint’s two seconds from running out the door when he finally says, “That’s it? That’s what this is about?”

Clint stops. “Uh. Yeah?”

“But I already knew.”

The only reason Clint’s jaw doesn’t hit the floor is because he’s frozen in shock. 

“Your medical file lists you as intersex,” Phil tells him. “Besides, I’ve seen you naked.”

That’s enough to snap words back into Clint’s head. “What? When?”

“The field base in Iran.” Phil frowns. “That thing with the irradiated sand?”

That. Right. They’d spent a hour in the showers, washing sand out of places Clint didn’t think sand could get. “You saw?”

“It was a very small shower, and you were very naked.”

“But you didn’t say anything,” Clint protests, and Phil rolls his eyes.

“What should I have said? ‘Hello, friend and colleague, I notice that you have both a penis and a labia. This has increased my previously unacknowledged attraction to you. Would you care to remark on the subject?’”

Clint stares back at him, head spinning. “Wait. No. No way. You can’t stand there and tell me this is a turn-on for you.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s you.” A flush rises on Phil’s face, and his almost-smile softens. “Honestly, though? I’ve spent more time than I care to admit imagining different ways to make you come.”

Heat floods Clint’s skin, and he barely stops himself from throwing Phil to the floor, right then. He still can’t quite wrap his mind around what’s happening. “You knew. You knew the whole time, and you still wanted to have sex with me.”

“I still _want_ to have sex with you,” Phil says. “I want to spend the night with you and wake you up in the morning with coffee and head, and I want to do it all over again tomorrow. It doesn’t matter if you have a penis or a vagina or both or neither. I still want the same thing.”

All of Clint’s inevitabilities have shifted, and the only thing he can think to say is, “Having neither would make sex a little difficult.”

“We’d manage,” Phil replies simply. “Even if sex was off the table entirely, I’d find a way to make you feel good.”

The only appropriate answer is to kiss him, so that’s what Clint does, hard and fierce and for so long that his lungs start to ache. He can only make himself pull away far enough to breathe, his lips brushing against Phil’s, both of them gasping into each other’s mouths. 

“Just so we’re clear,” he says breathlessly, “this isn’t just sex.”

He can feel Phil’s smile against his mouth, and it sends a sweet shiver all the way down to his toes. “Thank you for clarifying.” He draws back so that Clint can see his eyes, dark and serious, and says, “I’m sorry I let my insecurity keep me from hearing what you were trying to say.”

Clint frowns. “Insecurity? What the hell do you have to be insecure about?”

“Everything?” Phil sighs. “You. This. Us.The reality of this whole... thing.”

Clint’s fallen in and out of love a few times in his life, but this feels different, less like falling and more like easing into bed at the end of a long day. It feels like something he’s been looking forward to without knowing what it was. “It’s real,” he tells Phil. “This whole thing. It’s real.”

This time, there are no pauses on their trek to the bedroom, but they take the path more slowly, shedding clothing with soft, deliberate touches. Clint has enough time for his nerves to creep back, but it’s easy to push them aside and get lost in the way Phil’s fingertips are digging into his sides. It seems like forever before he slides the shorts over Phil’s hips and finally wraps his hand around Phil’s hard, heavy cock. Phil moans and bites down on Clint’s lip, and Clint pushes him back onto the bed, pinning him down with his knees open and arms out.

“Show me?” Phil pleads. “Show me how you get yourself off when it’s just you. I want to see. Please.”

It takes Clint’s brain a moment to catch up, and when it does, his heart starts to pound, stunned and scared and so turned on he can barely breathe. “Really?”

“Please,” Phil says again, and Clint wants to make Phil say _please_ for absolutely everything, even as he knows that he will always answer yes.

When he’s alone, when he can take his time and isn’t just trying to finish up in the wake of someone else’s orgasm, Clint tends to make a production of it, chasing the satisfaction he can’t get outside of his own bed. After a moment, he swallows hard and asks, “D- do you have any toys?”

Phil blinks like something in his head is disconnected. “Nightstand. Bottom drawer.”

It’s a fairly standard assortment, aside from the barbed cock cage, which Clint was totally not expecting and is definitely going to ask about later. He rifles for a moment and comes up with a vibrating cock ring and a bullet vibrator attached to a dial control, plus the requisite bottle of lube.

Phil is watching him with an expression that is at once fascinated and hungry. Clint is still wearing his shorts, but he feels suddenly more naked than he ever has in his life. “You really wanna watch?” he asks, and Phil nods. “Okay. Right. Okay.”

As he strips off his shorts and leans back against the pillows, he has to remind himself that Phil has actually seen him naked and isn’t expecting a full-sized, fully-functional cock-and-cunt combo when what Clint has is more like a sample pack, just a stubby little cock with a useless slit along the bottom. The opening looks like it ought to be good for something, but it’s more of a sensitive divot than a vagina. The fact that his balls are fairly average just makes the rest of it look more absurd.

There’s not enough cock to get a real grip on, and the rubber ring fits loosely around the base, just snug enough that he gets a glorious jolt as he switches on the tiny vibrator attachment. He can’t help but sigh in relief, and Phil echoes him with a needy groan.

“Oh my god,” Phil breathes. His mouth is hanging open, one hand gripping his own cock like he needs something to hold onto. “Christ, you’re gorgeous.”

Clint huffs. “You like that, huh?” 

Phil nods slowly, swallowing hard. His fingers hover over Clint’s knee, close enough that Clint can’t feel the tips ghosting through the hair on his legs. “Can I...?”

“Go for it,” Clint says, and Phil’s palm on his skin is nearly as good as the buzzing on his cock. He bites his lip to keep from moaning and fumbles for the bullet vibrator, turning the dial halfway up and sliding the cylinder against the slit on the underside of his cock. It feels better, somehow, with Phil’s fingernails digging into his thigh. “I wanna see you, too,” he murmurs. “Wanna watch you come all over me.”

He’s not sure where _that_ came from, but he’s not about to ask questions as Phil grabs immediately for the lube and moves himself closer between Clint’s spread legs, squeezing out too much lube. It drips between his fingers onto the bedspread, but he doesn’t even glance at it, doesn’t look anywhere but Clint.

Feeling this exposed and unbalanced, Clint’s orgasm should be be slow in building - it normally is - but the heat is already spinning up, rising like steam under his skin. He rubs his thumb over the head of his cock, sliding the bullet along his slit in a rough rhythm. What makes him moan, though, is the slick, wet sound as Phil’s hand speeds up and the bite of his fingernails digging into Clint’s leg.

“Fuck. Oh, god, fuck, yes,” Clin groans. His whole body is buzzing, thrumming in time with the vibrations between his legs and the slide of Phil’s fingers.

Phil kisses the inside of his knee, breathing hard and hot, staring at Clint like he’s transfixed, hypnotized. He mumbles against Clint’s knee, but it’s wordless, just sounds of need and adoration.

Words aren’t necessary, anyway. Clint knows exactly how he feels.

“I... I’m... almost...” Phil’s just gone, his face flushed and eyes hazy, and Clint needs this to finish _now_ so that he can lick the sweat off of Phil’s chest and spend the rest of his life wrapped around him like an octopus.

“Come on. Come on, I wanna see. Want your come on my cock,” Clint begs, and Phil doubles over like Clint’s pushed a button, coming so hard that hot spatter hits Clint’s chest and stomach. 

Phil keeps going, groaning as his cock dribbles onto Clint’s, pumping until he’s empty and spent. Clint’s never had someone else’s come on him like this, coating his cock and streaming down over his slit, and under any other circumstances, he’d be embarrassed by the sound he makes.

He’s close. God, he’s so close, creeping right up to the edge until Phil suddenly ducks his head and plants his mouth on Clint’s cock. The tight, wet heat is far and away the best thing he’s ever felt, and he jerks his hands out of the way, leaving Phil free access. He manages to turn the bullet dial all the way up as Phil presses it harder against him.

Then the tip of Phil’s tongue drags down and digs into the top of Clint’s slit, and Clint vanishes in a burst of white hot pleasure.

By the time he comes down completely, Phil is cleaning them both up with slow, lazy movements. Clint mumbles grumpily when Phil pulls the bedspread out from under him, but otherwise, he doesn’t move or feel anything but vague bliss until Phil collapses onto the bed beside him, wrapping them both in a clean blanket. Immediately, Clint drags Phil over to lie against his side, and Phil tucks his head into Clint’s shoulder with a sigh.

After a long moment, full of gentle breathe and cooling skin, Clint yawns and murmurs quietly, “I need to pee.”

Phil laughs and pokes him in the side. “Wait a few minutes. I’m comfortable.”

Clint sighs and shifts, pulling them closer together. “Fine. I guess I can stay in this nice, warm bed with my super sexy boyfriend for a little while.”

Phil just throws an arm around Clint’s waist and hooks a knee over his leg, mumbling through a yawn, “I like the sound of that.”

Clint feels like a pillow, big and soft and warm. He feels like something that belongs in Phil's bed, something for Phil to lie against and hold onto and own, like he's exactly where he should be, doing everything he's meant to do.


End file.
